


Enjoy the Silence

by allourheroes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, BAMF Stiles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Full Shift Werewolves, Getting Together, Hurt Stiles, Librarian Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nonsexual Nudity, Protective Derek Hale, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16083161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: In which Stiles is Derek's emissary, Derek wants to protect him, and Stiles ends up protecting them both. With a broken arm. In little more than his underwear.





	Enjoy the Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Smowkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smowkie/gifts).



> I'm days late, but I'm hoping I incorporated some things she likes... Happy belated birthday!
> 
> She's awesome and you should check her out, along with [sterekdrabbles](http://sterekdrabbles.tumblr.com) over on tumblr, if you've somehow found me and not her.
> 
> The title comes from "Enjoy the Silence" by Depeche Mode, which felt appropriate.
> 
> (Special thanks to superdeanlover and impalafortrenchcoats for reading this over, as they often do. Any leftover errors are my own.)

Ever since the new pack had arrived, Derek had become irritable and restless.

Well, maybe that’s not quite true.

Ever since the new pack arrived, broke his emissary’s arm, and told him only a weak alpha would have such a weak emissary, Derek had become irritable and restless.

Stiles struggles, one arm in a sling, to take a stack of books into the history section and reshelve them. Through the gaps, he catches sight of black fur as a large wolf prowls through the shelves.

“I’m fine,” he says, too low to be properly heard by anyone but a werewolf. For a librarian, he’s bad at the rule of silence that is supposed to surround them. “It’s not like they’re going attack me here. Or ever again. I was just a warning since they knew they could leave evidence.” He shrugs his shoulder, annoyed. It hadn’t exactly been a fair fight, nor much of a fight at all, really. They had knocked him out, grabbed him, and waited only for him to awaken before telling him it was a message for his alpha.

That they’d been able to do it irks him to no end. He’d been outnumbered, sure, but if he hadn’t been _distracted_ —

Stiles pushes the books back into place more forcefully than he ought to, but he’s pulled from his anger by a tug to the back of his shirt. Carefully, he kneels down to face a little boy and calms his expression to a smile.

“Hey. You need something?”

“Um.” And the boy’s eyes focus on his hanging badge where a cartoon wolf sticker covers his first name, on his sling and the cast peeking out beneath. “I want a book about magic.”

There’s a lupine huff of amusement behind him but Stiles ignores it, tapping his badge to keep the boy from becoming curious—he doesn’t need a boy literally and with warrant crying wolf in the Beacon Hills Public Library. “Magic, huh? What kind?”

The boy twitches, deep in thought. “Like with witches and castles.”

Stiles chuckles softly. “Alright. I think I’ve got something for you.” He lets his gaze wander over to the wolf before leading the kid to the children’s section, where he picks out a few options.

The evening carries on and, after the library doors are locked, Stiles takes a few minutes to pour over the magical tomes he had acquired, ostensibly for the library but really to be snuck back home for his personal use. He shoves them into his bag, awkwardly tugging it over his shoulder with only one good arm.

He knows Derek is watching him and Stiles doesn’t pay him much mind. There was once a time when a big black wolf might’ve set him on edge, but that time has long passed—especially since he knows _this_ particularly wolf is a big softie.

When he moves to head out, Derek tags along. He had walked to work, his apartment only a couple of blocks from the library. Idly, Stiles lets his dangling fingers scratch over Derek’s thick black fur as he tells Derek about the little boy, about how dogs aren’t allowed in the library outside of a work or therapy context and how Derek would have to wear one of those vests.

Derek doesn’t leave when they reach his door.

“Really? You’re following me _into_ my home?” Stiles fumbles his keys and exhales sharply from his nose in frustration when they fall.

His glare keeps Derek back as he picks them up again.

“My apartment, like the library, doesn’t allow pets,” he tells Derek, who manages to look put upon even in his current form.

Stiles rolls his eyes, but he opens the door and lets Derek through first. Derek seems to sniff around, tilt his head as he listens, before trotting back over to Stiles.

Stiles just wants to dump all of his stuff and lie down, but that’s made more difficult by his broken arm. He wants it all to be done immediately. He gets his hanging badge off fine, goes to lift off his bag.

In his haste, however, he bangs the elbow of his broken arm into a cabinet and breaks into a litany of “ow, fuck, ow” and controlled flailing so as not to cause more damage.

Suddenly, Derek is there, in human form, gently pulling the strap of Stiles’s bag up over his shoulder and off.

Stiles doesn’t thank him, but he shrugs his shoulders and ignores how comfortable Derek is with being naked around him. “Gotta go change,” he mutters, heading to his bedroom.

“I can help.”

Stiles wants to be incredulous, but the reminder of his weakness has him too withdrawn to bother. He goes to remove his sling and Derek starts doing it for him, then tugs Stiles’s sweater—typical librarian-wear that Kira had gotten for him—over his head, careful of his cast. The t-shirt beneath rucks up and Stiles manages that on his own as Derek _neatly folds his sweater_. Derek is being way too nice.

Then, the fight with his jeans begins. Stiles doesn’t know how he had gotten them on this morning. Maybe magic? Yeah, possibly magic.

A still naked Derek Hale kneels in front of him, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. It’s a mental image he doesn’t know what to do with and he swallows.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Stiles tells him. Derek’s eyes flicker up, then concentrate on tugging Stiles’s pants down. “It’s not your fault I got hurt,” he continues, because he knows, even if Derek won’t say it. He steps out of his jeans, left in only his Superman underwear in front of Derek.

“I thought you liked Batman,” Derek says, and it’s supposed to break the tension, but he sounds too serious and it makes Stiles sigh, even though he’ll play along.

“Can’t I like both?” Stiles asks, trying for a smile as Derek stands before him.

When Derek just nods, like he can’t think of what else to say, Stiles puts his hand on Derek’s shoulder.

“Seriously. It’s not your fault.” This time his mouth quirks into a real smirk. “It’s their fault and they’re assholes.”

This brings an actual chuckle out of Derek, but he sobers quickly. “They’re assholes who knew I couldn’t protect my pack.”

“They’re assholes who ganged up on a single human when they knew you weren’t around. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Derek. Not _everything_ is your fault. Just, like, a lot of things.”

“Leaving that single human alone when I know he’s an idiot is definitely my fault,” Derek mutters, smiling at Stiles’s offended expression.

“You know I could kick your alpha werewolf ass, right? Even with a broken arm. You wanna get into this?” Stiles steps back like he’s going to start a fight.

Derek just glares.

Stiles is far too amused, but he’s also just damn tired. “So how’s this gonna go? You gonna prowl my apartment all night setting off my alarms or are we gonna, like, spoon?”

And now Derek shrugs.

“Oh. _Oh_. I mean. Okay.”

It takes a few minutes for them to get settled, for Stiles to make sure his wards are still working and his lights are out. Derek slots behind him in bed, like it’s no big deal. Maybe it isn’t for touchy-feely werewolves—and is that how Derek is? Stiles has never thought about it, really, even after all these years. It’s weird having someone to cuddle him, the immense heat Derek provides, and it doesn’t help that it’s nearly all skin on skin, with Stiles’s Superman boxers the only defense.

It’s also strangely comfortable. Stiles likes being snuggled and it keeps his mind from dwelling on his arm.

“You know, usually, with humans, we do this if we like someone. Like, romantically.” He swallows down the lump in his throat as Derek’s fingers idly scritch at his abdomen.

Derek freezes for a second and Stiles could swear that his heart’s about to beat out of his chest. Which is stupid and he knows Derek can definitely feel it.

Stiles waits just one more moment before he says, “As a kid, I used to use that ‘silence means yes’ logic about a lot of things. I know I didn’t ask, but if I did…” Derek’s fingers flex on his stomach. “Derek, do… Do you _like_ me?” And Stiles is six years old again in that moment, because Derek is deathly silent. The silence stretches on, Stiles making sure that the feedback he thinks he’s getting is correct. “Because if you asked me,” he continues, ears straining, “I wouldn’t answer either. Just so you know.”

Derek huffs against his neck. “Like you could be quiet,” he says and Stiles half-heartedly struggles in his arms.

“I— I _could_ be. Under the right circumstances.” He’s arguing, but all he can think is _Derek likes me_ , which is a problem.

Derek wraps himself tighter around Stiles, taking Stiles’s hand in his own, and Stiles hadn’t realized that he was hurting, but he can see black veins threading up Derek’s arm, even in the darkness.

He sucks in a breath. “This is really nice. The cuddling, not the, uh. You feeling emasculated by another pack so you can’t leave me alone thing.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek murmurs into his hair.

He could fight it. He knows he could. But instead Stiles lets the warmth, inner and outer, lull him into slumber.

Hours later, Derek is still asleep but Stiles feels the buzz of something crossing his wards. He slips out of Derek’s grasp as gently and quietly as he can when he decides it’s not just the stray cat his neighbor secretly feeds. And maybe Stiles also secretly feeds. It’s a really cute cat, alright?

Stiles shrugs on his red hoodie, draping his bad arm so it hangs almost like a cape, and sneaks over to the window. His eyes narrow as he notes one of the betas that had nabbed him. Did they track him here? Follow him home? If so, well, maybe Derek was right to worry.

Although...Derek is here, too.

First sealing his front doorway with mountain ash, Stiles carefully peeks his head out. The other pack’s werewolves—the alpha and two more betas besides the first he’d spotted—are sniffing around outside.

They turn to him and Stiles steps out, closing his door and therefore closing them off from Derek. “Looking for me?” he asks. “I thought the arm was enough, but maybe you wanted to go for a leg this time.”

“You again,” one of the betas complains. “We don’t want you at all.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles knows what that means, but he plays the game anyway. “So why are you here outside of _my_ apartment if you’re not looking for _me_?” He flicks his fingers, hopes they don’t notice.

The alpha, and Stiles can’t remember his name as they were never _formally_ introduced during his brief kidnapping, inhales deeply. “I think you know why.” He lets out a haughty laugh and Stiles considers his murder very seriously before forcibly calming himself. “No wonder you’re both so weak. His scent’s all over you. What are you, his little—”

Stiles holds up his hand and the alpha chokes, his insult effectively stopped. “If I were you, I’d think very carefully about what you want to say and who you’re saying it to.” He snaps and the alpha staggers back a step. In his peripheral vision, he sees the smaller of the flanking betas shift, eyes flashing blue. His gaze switches to her. “I can get you, too, Lassie. Don’t try me.” He affects a casual stance, tilts his head. “You’re making me ask again and I don’t really like that. Why are you here?”

“Just to scare him,” the other beta supplies, the one who had acted all high and mighty at seeing Stiles again. His mouth snaps shut, but it isn’t because of Stiles: his alpha flashes red, growls at him, and he cowers.

“Is that any way to treat your pack?” Stiles asks. “He was being a good boy and answering my questions. I’m inclined to let _him_ off easy.” He lifts his injured arm. “This was a fluke. You come after my alpha, you won’t be walking away. Or ever again.”

“And you’re gonna make that happen?” the alpha asks.

Stiles’s jaw tightens, but he lifts his eyebrows, amused. “Yeah.”

The small beta tries to charge him and Stiles knocks her down without batting an eye. Pretty good for a human with a broken arm in little more than his underwear.

“Now what did you think you were going to do to Derek?”

The alpha snarls, but he doesn’t approach, so Stiles just waits. Finally, he drops his bravado. “Nothin’.”

“Glad to hear it. If you’d like to talk, like grown up werewolves, you can set something up with me. Or you can turn tail and get out of Hale territory.”

The alpha shuffles and his betas don’t make eye contact. “You’d still be up for an alliance?”

Stiles shrugs. “If you ask reeeeally nicely, I might be able to convince Derek you aren’t suckerpunching douchebags. Maybe.”

“I—”

Stiles holds up a hand, no magic needed this time to shut the guy up. “Grovel in the morning. I’m going back to bed. Where, yes, my alpha is. And if you’ve got a problem with _that_ , run now.”

The alpha swallows. “We’ll be in touch.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow, waits until the werewolves turn and retreat, until they pass the last of his wards. He lets out a sigh and opens his door. He knows Derek must’ve heard all that, but the ash would’ve kept Derek in just as it kept them out.

He’s a little surprised Derek isn’t there, trying to run for it, but he lets out a relieved sigh as it seems Derek hasn’t trashed his apartment trying to claw his way out.

Making his way back to the bedroom, Stiles holds his breath, anticipating a fight.

Derek is still in his bed, propped up on an elbow. “You want to ally with them? Really?”

Stiles grins, lets his hoodie fall in a heap to the floor. “Might be good to have someone on our side willing to play dirty.” He climbs back into the covers.

“Someone who hurt you,” Derek mutters, a growl under his breath.

Stiles lets himself lean shoulder-to-shoulder against Derek. “Says the guy who used to threaten me on a daily basis.” He returns Derek’s glare with an even gaze. Taking a risk, he settles onto Derek like an extremely muscular pillow, his injured arm resting on the outside.

Derek wraps his arm around him. “I know earlier.” He stops, and Stiles hums to indicate he’s listening. “You asked if I… How I felt.” Derek grits his teeth like it pains him. “I just want you to know that it’s yes.”

Stiles huffs a laugh into Derek’s chest. “Mmh. Good. That’s good.”

“You’re drained from the magic,” Derek surmises quietly, and Stiles nods. “Do you want me to go?” Stiles shakes his head. Derek chuckles. “Nonverbal now?” Another nod.

Stiles allows Derek to maneuver them into a more suitable position. He’s got this now—new hope, a warm body.

Everything else can wait until morning.


End file.
